


Pretty Pictures

by Pigzxo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless smut based on the following five prompts: Private photo session, glowing candles, ex sex, use your teeth, & against the wall.</p>
<p>Or: when Ian breaks up with Mickey, he promises he'll do anything for him. He didn't really expect Mickey to pick naked pictures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Pictures

            “Why are we doing this?” Ian asked. He walked out into the living room wearing a bathrobe, arms crossed over his body.

            Mickey smirked from where he sat on the couch. He had a camera in his lap – a cheap disposable one. “You said anything,” he said.

            “I meant, like, a ride to the airport,” Ian said.

            “You didn’t specify.”

            Ian sighed and shed the bathrobe. He wore nothing underneath and his skin glowed golden in the light of the candles. Mickey snapped a picture just as the bathrobe dropped and, while Ian frowned, he did nothing to stop him. He simply stepped onto the makeshift bed they’d constructed in the living room and lay down on his side. He propped up his leg to show the sizeable cock between his thighs.

            “This good?” he said.

            Mickey took a few more pictures. “Now sit up,” he said.

            Ian did as he was directed, feeling cold and awkward in the weird lighting. It was obvious this was getting Mickey off – and massively entertaining him – but Ian was starting to think the goal was humiliating him and not having a memento of their relationship when he left. He was about to say as much when Mickey said, “No, not like that,” and got off the couch.

            “Whoa,” Ian said, hands up in surrender.

            Mickey stopped his approach, one eyebrow raised.

            “We broke up,” Ian said.

            “Thanks, Sherlock, didn’t know that,” Mickey said. He took a step forward and yanked Ian’s head to the side, so it was on a tilt. The pull didn’t hurt exactly, it just didn’t feel as good as Ian was used to, as good as he knew Mickey’s fingers could feel in his hair. “You’re trying your best to look like a shithead. How about you look like you fucking love me?”

            “I do love you.”

            “Then why are you leaving?”

            Ian shut his mouth. It had been a point of contention between them all day as Ian packed up his stuff, and he couldn’t really explain the problem. There was no real way to tell his boyfriend that he just wasn’t hot for him anymore. It made it worse that it was obviously not something Mickey had a problem with.

            Mickey sighed and took a step back. He took a few more photos before giving up. Stepping forward, he ran his hands through Ian’s hair again, pulled it more to the side. And this time Ian felt it. Felt the spark in the pull. But he forced himself to breathe through it, not to get hard in the middle of the photo shoot. He even managed to look Mickey in the eyes.

            “Shift a little,” Mickey said. “You’re covering it.”

            Ian did as he was told and Mickey took a few close-up shots. He was knelt down by Ian’s dick when he put the camera down and said, “Too bad we can’t get it up.”

            And Mickey’s breath, warm though it was, should not have had that big of an effect on him. It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t usually suck him off or anything, Mickey was just usually so eager for it. Rarely did he look at Ian’s dick like it was just something there, another part of his body, not something to be worshipped. Rarely did Mickey look at his body so coldly.

            So if a little blood rushed that way and Mickey smirked, teeth so close, and then more blood, Ian couldn’t really help it.

            “Can you hurry up?” Ian said, trying not to stammer as Mickey brought the camera back up. “It’s cold in here.”

            “I think the candles make it pretty warm.”

            “Yeah, the candles were a nice touch. What? You expect me to melt back into your arms like a girl?” Ian said. Insulting Mickey was at least familiar territory. He could handle that.

            What he couldn’t handle was the rough tug Mickey gave him cock. “Shut up,” Mickey said.

            “Make me,” Ian said, more on instinct than anything else.

            And it’s not like Mickey Milkovich was one to back away from a challenge. He leaned forward and swirled his tongue over the head of Ian’s dick, pursed his lips around the tip. He ran his tongue along the underside of Ian’s cock and reduced him to whimpers of pleasure. When his eyes flickered closed, he didn’t even picture someone else on him.

            Then Mickey pulled off with a wet smack, far too soon, and the camera clicked. “That warm you up any?” he said, his voice deadpan.

            And shit. Ian could have come from the disdain in the words. He looked up at Mickey through lidded eyes and forced his breathing steady. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried this before, but then it had been the other way around. Mickey a mouthy and inflexible sub; Ian a harsh and demanding dom. Neither of them had liked it much. But Ian felt that the role reversal was working.

            “Stand up,” Mickey said.

            Ian did. More pictures were taken. He felt the chill of the room, the warmth of the candles, and the heat of Mickey’s uninterested gaze. Gaze uninterested, but body definitely interested. His hard-on was obvious in his jeans and Ian wanted to get down on his knees and suck him off.

            Mickey snapped his fingers. “Eyes up.”

            “Do you really care where my eyes are in the picture?”

            Mickey looked up at him and then stepped onto the bed. He faced Ian head on, clothed body to naked one, and said, “You don’t get a say here, all right? You said anything I wanted. And I want you to do this, with your mouth shut, and then get your fucking face out of my house. You understand me?”

            Ian felt his breath hitch and he looked down. Down at the bulge in Mickey’s pants. More instinct than anything else, he dropped to his knees and grabbed for the waist of Mickey’s jeans. As his thumb went for the button, he heard Mickey rasp, “Use your teeth.”

            The metal was cold in his mouth, hard against his teeth, but he managed to undo the button and get the zipper down. He bit down on denim and pulled down the jeans precious inches. Thank god for Mickey’s loose fitting pants. Then Ian nosed at Mickey’s dick through the fabric of his boxers, kissed against the outline before going back for the waistband.

            He scraped down the fabric until Mickey’s dick was free. Ian kissed along the shaft and then swallowed it fast, all the way down to the root in one motion. He felt Mickey’s breath hitched, smiled around his cock, and decided to take the command “use your teeth” just a little too far as he scraped down Mickey’s length.

            “You little shit,” Mickey mumbled, but his breathing was heavy. The unaffected act was failing fast. He wrapped a hand up in Ian’s hair and shoved him back down. Ian complied with vigour, sucking and licking and swirling as Mickey set the pace for him. Then he was ripped off as he heard the command, “Up.”

            Ian stood, his legs a little shaky, and let himself be pulled into a bruising kiss. He bit at Mickey’s lips, at the line of his jaw, down the length of his neck.

            “Fuck me,” Mickey said, and Ian decided to take that as a command too.

            He pushed Mickey back against the nearest wall and turned him around. Grabbing lube from the drawer in the coffee table, he dipped two fingers in. Then he rubbed up against Mickey’s hole, felt him melt and shudder at the touch. Slowly, Ian entered him with one finger, twisting and rubbing until Mickey was a mess. He added a second finger and stretched the hole slowly. Mickey took little prep, his hole used to the abuse, but Ian wanted to be ready for whatever Mickey told him to do.

            “Hurry the fuck up,” Mickey said.

            So Ian lubed himself up, rolled a condom on and pressed up against Mickey’s hole. He pressed his lips to Mickey’s ear and whispered, “Slow or fast?”

            “Slow.”

            “Hard or soft?”

            “Hard.”

            Ian pounded in hard and then slowly moved out. He set an even, but punishing pace, hitting Mickey’s prostate with every thrust but making sure to drag back out. Mickey whispered curses mixed with gasps of his name. All good things until he started to whisper, “Touch me, touch me, touch me.”

            Ian knew Mickey was sensitive close to an orgasm, so he wrapped long fingers around Mickey’s shaft with dangerous care. He stroked him nice and slow, to the rhythm of his thrusts.

            “Did I say slow down?” Mickey said.

            “Well you did say slow.”

            “Fuck me hard and fast, then.”

            Ian adjusted his grip. He pressed his arm across Mickey’s shoulders and pushed him up against the wall, all the while peppering his neck with kisses. Then he settled his hips and pounded into Mickey fast. He thrust with even strokes, each one rougher than the next, and tugged at Mickey’s dick hard. Quickening his pace, he felt himself starting to lose control.

            “Don’t come,” Mickey said. “Not until I do.”

            Ian bit his bottom lip. Mickey was better at holding himself together, could do it for hours, but Ian was right on the edge, ready to tumble over. The heat of Mickey’s ass, the heat of the candles, made him want to go insane. He pressed his nose into the back of Mickey’s head, pressed butterfly kisses to the back of his neck. His eyes were squeezed shut so tight he thought he might cry.

            Then he felt the sweet, sticky release of Mickey in his hand, warm between his fingers. With a deep breath, he came himself with a few more thrusts and then pulled out. He stepped back from Mickey and then threw the condom away.

            Mickey stood with his face up against the wall, breathing hard.

            “You okay?” Ian said.

            Slowly, Mickey turned, a smile on his face. “I’m supposed to ask you that.”

            Ian blushed. “Yeah, I guess.”

            Mickey stepped forward and kissed him again, softer. Ian was instantly reminded of how much he loved the man in front of him, the man who wanted to take care of him after _his_ ass just took a beating.

            “God, I love you,” Ian said.

            “I love you too,” Mickey said. He brushed a hand through Ian’s hair. “Is that what it takes to get you going then?”

            Ian opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. He wasn’t aware that Mickey had been aware of the problem. He eventually nodded and ducked his head.

            Mickey kissed him again. “It’s good. It’s all good. You were good.” He hugged him tight and then took a step back. “I’m going to grab some water bottles and a blanket. You need anything else?”

            Ian shook his head. He sat back down on the makeshift bed and waited for Mickey to return. When he did, he took the water bottle and drank half of it. He let Mickey drape the blanket over his shoulders and rub small circles down his back.

            “Hey, Mick,” he said. Mickey looked over at him, blue eyes skeptical. “You know what I’m thinking?”

            “That it’s a shame all this hot wax is going to waste?”

            Ian laughed, even though the thought sent hot tingles down his spine. “No. I was thinking... I was thinking maybe I don’t want to break up.”

            Mickey made a low sound in the back of his throat. Then he kissed Ian, sharply and roughly and like he owned him. “You know what? I was thinking the same thing.”


End file.
